


Tryst Contract

by gala_apples



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affairs, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Breathplay, Commitment, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Facials, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Relationship Negotiation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world that depends on producing heirs, Tryst Contracts are used for lesbian and gay individuals so they can still have the sex they want, even if they have to live a heterosexual life. In their eighth year at Hogwarts Ron and Draco set up a contract.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tryst Contract

Wizard society has one sexual rule; produce an heir. Even if you're not a crazy pureblood fanatic your duty is clear; provide more wizards and witches so society doesn't dwindle. Beyond that, do what you enjoy. Ron has full intentions of having four or five kids, but that's later. For now he quite enjoys meeting with other males from big name families.

Ron's been around long enough that he's not worried about etiquette. There are three ways it can go. You can get someone that's wet behind the ears, someone that still doesn't quite get the system and threatens to kill you if you tell. Those are the kind you hope to teach a little, so they have fun but know how to better behave the next time. You can get an experienced partner that's good in bed, and if you're lucky you can meet them again. Or you can get someone who isn't necessarily bad, just doesn't suit your needs and you plan to not meet again. Ron's had enough encounters with each type that he knows how to act in any situation.

Still, there's a bit of nerve every time you meet someone new. 

He doesn't like Draco, nor forgive him for Dumbledore's murder. But watching your best friend die seems like a large penance. Ron doesn't think he could stand it if one of his friends or family members died. And it's not as though meeting with Draco is akin to agreeing to be mates. It's just sex.

Hermione likely wouldn't approve of his Trysts, so he doesn't tell her. Ron is in no way a blood purist, but there are some things muggleborns can't understand. The difference between sex, love, and obligation is one thing she'll never understand. She won't grasp how he can love her, and probably end up producing children with her, but need to have sex with people of his own gender.

Harry might not approve, so he doesn't tell him. Ron knows that Harry's reasoning would be different from Hermione's. Even though as far as Ron knows Harry is straight, he's probably uncomfortable about the necessity of having children. He'll understand Ron going outside of his family oriented relationship to get what he really wants. What Harry won't get is why Ron is a slag about it, Ron suspects Harry's the type to love only one person. Harry will want Ron to pick one man to have an affair with, whilst Ron is comfortable with the idea of shagging whomever there is to shag.

It's probably a cliche that he meets Draco in front of the Room of Requirement, but it's the best place for meeting anyone his age. Outside Hogwarts a room at The Leaky works, or going to the person's own home, depending on the sort of agreement one has with a spouse. 

The first order of business is to negotiate terms. It's a simple spoken contract, sealed with a bit of essence magic. Ron's never witnessed someone breaking one, because the terms are always agreeable by both parties before it's sealed, but he imagines the consequences for breaking a Tryst Contract are just as severe as breaking an Unbreakable Vow are.

"A one off then?" Ron suggests. No need to get heavily into it if they don't know if they suit each other. At least not in bed, Ron's well aware he and Draco will never suit each other's personalities.

"I was thinking two. This time I get what I want, the next time we meet you get what you want." Ron searches Draco's face, but there's no bite to his words. He doesn't mean anything by placing his own needs first, it's just how he works. 

"I have two conditions."

"What are they?"

"Regardless of whatever 'what you want' means, I still come by the end of the session."

"Agreed. The second?"

"No dark magics. You might be exonerated by the Wizengamot, but that doesn't mean I trust you."

"Agreed. I have only one condition, no speaking of these two encounters to any of your _friends_." The last word is said with such disdain that Ron wants to smack him, but Ron also wants to have sex and that's the more important urge to fulfill.

"Agreed." 

Ron spits on his hand and holds it out, Draco extends his own, and they shake wetly. Then he steps back so Draco can stride up and down the hall. Finally the door reveals itself, Ron opens it and strides forward. Gryffindor nature doesn't allow him to hesitate, doesn't let him fear what Draco might have in store for him. Just because he can't curse him doesn't mean he can't bite him while giving him head, he's forgotten to add several important pieces to their Tryst Contract. 

He's pleasantly surprised and relieved to see all the room has given them is a rather small bedroom, everything dwarfed by the king sized bed. Ron strips down quickly, tossing his clothes onto a black velvet armchair. Draco takes longer, folding his robe neatly before placing it on the same chair.

"Do you top or bottom?" Draco asks. Ron isn't surprised that he's getting straight to the point. That's what these contracts are about, the mutual pleasure of gay or bisexual men in a necessarily heterosexual world.

"If I had my druthers, bottom. Does that work with you?"

Ron waits for a curt nod before pulling the blanket to the side of the bed and climbing onto the high mattress. It's high enough that Ron's arse at the edge of the bed is even with Draco's hips. It's a common change the room makes to furniture, aligning it for the height and stance of those using it.

Draco comes to the edge of the bed and it seems natural for Ron to put a leg on either side of his hips, drawing him in. This leaves Draco's cock rubbing against his perineum, and judging by the gentle rocking Draco wants nothing more then to start fucking. Ron rather agrees.

"Weasley. Do you pre-prepare, or..." he's hesitant, and it throws Ron off a bit. He's not acting nearly like one would expect Malfoy would.

"No. How did I know if we'd come to agreeable terms? No sense in starting if I wasn't sure you were going to finish."

Draco nods and retreats a few steps to collect his wand from his robe. It unnerves Ron to be wandless around a ready ex-Death Eater, but all Draco does is cast the three commonly known sex spells before tossing it back across the room. Stretched, lubricated, and protected from possible STI's, Ron doesn't bother to stifle his moan as Draco presses into him. He could have trysts every day and still not get enough of the feeling. Ron can't think of anything better then getting fucked, whether it's stranger, enemy, or that awkward one off with Dennis Creevey. 

Draco's fucking him slowly, and if Ron didn't know better he'd almost think there was a bit of affection in it. Each thrust of his hips jostles the bed and makes Ron's whole body move, adding an interesting component to what's otherwise bland sex. "Fuck me Draco. We're not making love, we're fucking."

"Who's wishes are being met tonight, Weasley?" Draco reminds him, a hint of amusement in his haughtiness.

"Yours, Malfoy. But we hate each other, don't you remember? I'm a blood traitor, and you're a ferret." It's probably not the wisest move to taunt the man, as Ron has to show up a second time or suffer for breaking contract regardless of how angry he might make him. On the other hand, the words get Draco to speed up, so it's well worth it.

Draco's pistioning into his body, exactly the speed and technique Ron likes. His toes start to curl as he nears completion, heat spiraling in his stomach. Then Draco ruins it by talking.

"Do you trust me?"

Ron wants to laugh at the question. Of course he doesn't trust a Malfoy. But even if he says no, Draco's got the power. Ron's agreed to a contract saying Draco can do whatever he wants, and so he might as well minimize the potential for problems by not angering the man. 

"Do what you need to," he responds, not quite able to make himself lie and say he trusts him.

He's not sure what he's expecting, but it's certain not Draco reaching to the side and picking up a pillow then putting it over his face. It's annoying at first, his nose squashed by the padding and the force of the hand behind it. His exhales cause the pillow to grow warm then damp around his mouth, it's an unpleasant sensation. It quickly becomes worrisome as it starts to get hard to breathe, he's inhaling the same air he's been exhaling and there's no more oxygen left. 

Ron starts writhing underneath Draco, his legs kicking out in effort to get the man away from him. But Draco fucks him through his struggles, and more than that starts a steady movement of his hand on his cock. It's pitch black with the pillow over his eyes, but as the black begins to sparkle he can feel himself losing control. He comes hard spurting across Draco's fingers. The instant he does Draco both comes inside him and removes the pillow from his face. It's like a well choreographed dance, except sexy instead of boring.

"What the fuck was that?" The fact that he's come from the experience does not mean it's okay for Draco to have done that in the first place. His words come in pants, as he tries to gain his breath back. Draco pulls out and picks up his robe from the armchair, not looking at him.

"That was me doing whatever I wanted. I'm sure you'll find something suitable for yourself, Weasley." And there he is, Ron can see the instant Draco transforms into Malfoy. It starts with calling him by his last name, and ends in sneer.

"I'm sure I will." Ron manages to reply before Malfoy stalks out the door.

***

It's been less than a minute, and already his shoulders hurt. But it's a good pain, in a way that's hard to describe. It's like the burn of an acid pop or getting hit with a bludger, it only hurts because you've chosen it, and since you've chosen it you own it. It makes it better somehow.

Not that he'd be able to explain it to Harry or Hermione. He won't tell Hermione anyway, because it's not on to tell your girlfriend details about your Tryst Contract. But Harry might one day be told about Contracts,. He might even use a Contract to occasionally escape Ginny. But Ron won't be telling Harry this. He'll never understand how Ron could enjoy a bit of pain with his sex.

It's not about the pain, not really. It's about the lack of control he has. It's strange, because he's always felt like he's never controlled a thing in his life. But sex, something that comes with a variety of things he can choose- position, partner, location- he doesn't want to.

It's their second visit to the room of requirement, the last scheduled. It's taken Ron a month to convince himself to ask Draco for this, it took over a week of frantic wanking to admit to himself he even liked the idea of being out of control. He accosted the man in a hall exiting Charms, stepping away from Hermione and Harry to approach Draco and Greg, who after a few months still looked rather lonely without Crabbe. Hermione hissed at him not to pick a fight, but that wasn't the expenditure of energy Ron was interested in.

Everyone had watched with interest as he'd whispered into Draco's ear, expecting a brawl or a duel, but Draco had merely nodded and continued walking. No amount of pressing from either mate had yielded an answer, because Ron knew they wouldn't really want to know what he had said.

Two days had clearly been enough time to let Draco muse on his directions, _On Friday I want to be stuck in position, and I want to hurt. A little bit._ Not the clearest of requests, but Ron had let Draco open the room and had walked in on enough rope to tie down a Ukrainian Ironbelly.

Ron isn't sure where Draco learned his knotting skills. In truth he's not sure he wants to know, much better to imagine an experienced lover teaching Draco the art of bondage then to know that Draco learned how to tie muggles up with items they have in every home. The room has no mirrors, so he can't see how he's trussed up. All he can do is feel it, the rope tense against his skin.

Draco's got an anchor rope around his neck, and if he tries to move forward at all he chokes. Ron's beginning to think Draco has a breathing kink, and is disturbed the idea doesn't bother him. The rope runs down his back, somehow tying at his upper arm, his elbows, and his wrists. The knots at his wrist are tied to a post the room has created for this session. His arms are firmly tied together, but they're also pulled out and up, and his shoulders are straining. 

The longer he's left in position the more it hurts, and perversely the harder he gets. When he's got tears streaming down his face but an erection he could bludgeon people to death with, Draco sits on the floor next to him. Kneeling the way he is, Draco has to lie on his stomach to wrap his lips around Ron. At the first hint of tongue Ron's hips cant forward. It's a good thing for his cock, but horrible for the rest of his body. The rope shifts, scratching his wrists. His shoulders wrench painfully, stuck between the post and his sockets. The taut rope pulls on his neck, temporarily cutting off air. He struggles to breathe as he inches back enough to give it some slack, but there's no way to relieve his shoulders of tension.

"Fuck," he hisses as Draco works his mouth. It's not enough to take his mind off the pain in his shoulders, but Ron's come to realise he doesn't want to take his mind off the pain. He likes it, and more absurdly he likes that it's Draco causing it, albeit indirectly. 

When Draco's mouth slips and he accidentally grazes his cock with a tooth it should be a bad thing, Ron should be cursing at him for giving a poor blowjob. Instead he thrusts forward into the wet heat Draco's providing and screams as his shoulder stretches to breaking point. Draco makes swallowing motions around him and Ron can't stop screaming as he pours himself down Draco's throat.

When Draco waves his wand and murmurs a spell and the ropes disappear, Ron collapses forward. If it wasn't for Draco's lap, he'd hit the carpet face first. He lays, arms shaking, feeling oddly vulnerable. His entire upper back burns and it's only when his pride starts to scream at him for resting against a Malfoy and showing weakness that he sits up. 

"You want me to?" he asks, gesturing and wincing at the pain of moving his arm. Technically their Contract only stipulated Ron had to get off regardless, but it only seems fair to make sure Draco gets his kicks from it.

"No, it's okay. Thanks though."

If Ron wasn't in a haze of pain and bliss, he'd be stunned that a Malfoy just thanked a Weasley for something. As it is, he nods because he's in no way stupid enough to try to shrug.

Draco stands, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robe before casting a quick cleaning spell on the sleeve. Before Draco can walk out of the room and complete their contract Ron calls out.

"Hey!"

"What, Weasley?"

"Do you want to, I dunno. Maybe have another few rounds?"

"What sort of contract?" Draco asks carefully.

"I dunno. Open ended? The same as before, not telling anyone and no dark curses? I'm not sure I need one, not on my part anyway. I don't want Hermione to know as much as you don't want your friends to know, and I think I trust you enough to not force you into a 'no hexing' clause."

"You... trust a Malfoy?"

"Well, not as friends, you big prat. Just not to Avada or Crucio. And if you don't want to, all you have to do is say no and go away." He feels rather cross at Draco not agreeing immediately. Now Draco's got the power, he knows that Ron wants him and can ridicule him as much as he wants.

"I suppose you need not promise either. A Weasley wouldn't use dark magic if their life depended on it, you would as much Avada me as you would Potter. Fine. Next Tuesday?"

"Agreed." he says formally, not used to not using contract language.

"See you then." At the door Draco stops. He turns and looks at Ron, eyes piercing before he returns to his side. Draco silently wraps his arms around Ron's waist and helps pull him to his feet, knowing without asking that it would hurt Ron to get up by putting weight on his hands and arms and pushing up. Once Ron is standing Draco exits, leaving Ron to think about the unnecessary gesture of kindness.

***

"I'm not wearing that." Ron states clearly.

"We've discussed this, Weasley." They've been seeing each other the entire year, and Ron's gained the ability of reading Draco's moods. He's generally uptight, but there are different versions depending on if he's uptight-sad, or uptight-angry, or uptight-with-sexual-tension. For Draco to be calling him by his last name, he's clearly frustrated. Ron doesn't much care, as he's not in a better mood. 

"Look. No one in Slytherin will care that you're there. And I can hardly come to Gryffindor's graduation party, now can I." That's true enough, Ginny would probably kill him. The duty would fall to her as the only present member of the Weasley clan -the entireity of whom wants to kill Draco. Tryst Contracts are one thing, perfectly acceptable in their culture. But when Hermione dumped Ron because she found out, Ron had automatically begun to see Draco full time. Dating was a hippogriff of a different feather, one that no one besides Ron and Draco seemed to like.

"It's not what party I'm going to that I care about. It's what I'm wearing. Or what I'm not wearing, because really? Sod that."

"Haven't you ever been to theme parties? Masquerades? Surely the Weasleys must get invited to some parties, even if they aren't of the same status of the ones the Malfoys go to."

There are about five reasons that sentence makes Ron want to punch Draco in the face. "I wasn't aware that Death Eater meetings were considered parties."

It's a statement meant to hurt, and from Draco's stiffened posture he can tell it does. "Perhaps we would be better off going to our own parties, respectively."

"Oh, don't start. I didn't tell Harry and Hermione that I would be in the dungeons and listen to an hour's worth of lecture from Harry parroting Moody's constant vigilance, as he thinks you'll all try to kill me and from Hermione about house unity and not making things worse at the end of a long year to _not_ go to Slytherin. Just, you shouldn't mention my family, and I won't mention your past. Okay?"

"If you want to come to Slytherin graduation you have to wear what I've picked out." Draco says stubbornly.

Ron looks at the clothing draped across the bed for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time they're still a strapless dress and huge boots. "You've gone barmy."

"It's your choice," and the cold tone is back, meaning he's turned back from hurt to irritated.

"Why do I have to wear a sodding dress to be in the Slytherin dorm? Is it some sort of scarlet letter, here stands the man crazy enough to not use Tryst Contracts?"

"It's a crossdressing party, you great moron!" Draco shouts. "You're in a dress, I'm in a dress, fucking Marcus Flint was in a dress four years ago!"

Ron's mind stutters and stops over the idea of Draco in a short skirt. "Why didn't you say that earlier, you prat?"

"You're not going to like the answer," Draco warns.

"Just say it."

"I'm not used to telling you things. Seven years of sneering at each other-"

"I don't sneer!"

"You do. And after seven years of it and ten before that being taught that Malfoys are better than Weasleys, sometimes it's hard to remember we share things now."

"Malfoys are not better than Weasleys," he says as an afterthought, a bit shocked at the idea that he was as much of a shit as Draco had been.

"I told you you wouldn't like it. But there it lies. Now, are you going to wear the dress, or are you going to the Gryffindor graduation party?"

"What's yours look like? This better not be a repeat of my mangy Yule Ball robes whilst Harry has brilliant green." If he's been given the crap end of the clothing stick again, he probably will chose Gryffindor. At least when he was wearing the lacy abomination at the Ball, Harry was there to glare at the people mocking him. Ron highly doubts Draco will stick up for him in front of a room of sneering Slytherins.

"Malfoys only buy the best. That includes when one is buying for someone else." 

Ron wants to point out that he hasn't answered the question, but he figures it's not the time. Draco will have to change soon too, and too many squabbles before they go to the Slytherin dorm can't possibly be good for the probability of Draco standing by him if there are problems. It's safer than Draco coming to Gryffindor, a house of cool political characters rather than a house of temperamental individuals, but that doesn't mean it's going to be comfortable.

He steps through the bodice of the dress and pulls it up his body. There are natural air pockets where breasts are supposed to be, Ron uncomfortably wonders if he's supposed to stuff them with socks or something. The red fabric fits tightly against his body, a spell on the torso tightening his ribcage like a corset. It works to make the line of his body more hourglass than natural, and worse than that, "Draco, this dress makes my arse look big."

"It does not. It makes you look curved, not like some disgusting slothful Wayne Hopkins. Now put on your boots." Draco is behind a vellum screen. Ron's not sure what he's silently spelling, though he sees shadows of wand movement. Ron rolls his eyes at the still masculinely robed man and slides on the boots. The soles are humongous, large enough to fit his size ten feet, but otherwise they're gorgeous. They're black leather, though Ron can't be sure if they're cowhide or dragonhide, and they go past his knees, leaving a foot or two of space before the hem of the dress starts. He starts the tedious task of lacing them, then halfway through one gives up and casts a simple stringing spell so the laces wriggle into the holes of their own accord like worms.

When Draco finally steps out from behind the stand, Ron knows what spell work he was doing. He was clearly transfiguring handkerchiefs into a skirt and from all the skin Ron can see, there was a lot of fabric left over. It's a flouncy, pleated thing, and Ron's certain if Draco was to bend over everyone would see his arse.

"Are you wearing knickers?" Ron gasps. Girls underwear makes the whole thing even kinkier somehow, worse than skirts or dresses.

"No. And you shouldn't be either. They're ruining the line of your dress." Draco frowns and waves his wand, Ron blushes as he feels the fabric disintegrate against his skin. Normally he'd start an argument about keeping them, but when Draco moved his arm, Ron caught a glance of his Mark. 

It's not that he's forgotten everything that's happened, Draco leading in the Death Eaters that maimed Bill, or the year that followed. It's just easy to let it slip out of mind. Draco always wears long sleeved button-downs or full robes during school hours, and when they're in bed his _arm_ is the last body part Ron's concerned with. To see it in it's black glory is like a slap in the face. He stares until it's too late, until Draco knows what he's transfixed by.

"I won't be the only one with one. Last year... well, it wouldn't be a good move to stare at any of them." 

Ron doesn't want to think about it, so he drops to his knees and lifts Draco's skirt. The metal hooks on the other side of the leather feel bumpy against his knees. When he adjusts, shifting his weight from one knee to the other, they grind against his kneecap in a strange way that makes him shiver. Normally he kneels with his legs making a triangle with the floor, it gives him more balance as he moves his head back and forth. This time his thighs are locked together, the dress is holding them tight and the fabric has no give. It would take snapping the hem for him to move his legs, and Draco would kill him for ruining an expensive article of clothing.

Draco's fingers ball painfully in his hair whilst his arm stays stationary. When Ron leans forward, throat slack so he can get the entire length into his mouth, Draco's hand is far enough away that his hair gets pulled harshly. The pain brings tears to his eyes, but he keeps moving his mouth on Draco's cock, internally satisfied in a way he's still not quite ready to deal with. 

As his thigh muscles start quivering- as cold as Draco sometimes is he has tells that Ron is expert in reading by now, and this one means he's about to come- Draco pulls away, taking himself out of Ron's mouth. Ron knows what's coming, and he shifts back so his face is better angled to Draco's groin. It makes the hooks dig into his knees but it's worth it when he has his head at the proper tilt and Draco sprays all over his face. Most makes it's way into his open mouth, decorating his lips and tongue. Ron savors the taste. He's grown to love the watery bitterness of come, which is a fact he will never share with anyone. 

Draco picks his wand up and waves it in front of Ron's face. He can feel the semen dissolving with the magic of the cleaning spell, it fizzles against his cheeks. Then Draco flicks his wand while muttering a spell Ron doesn't recognise. It feels like Draco's tossed baby powder in his face. He holds out his free hand and Ron uses it as a lever to stand, knees prickling. By the end of the night he'll probably have tiny circular bruises in a line down his legs. 

As they walk through the halls to the Slytherin common room the portraits mutter, the men offensively, the women flapping fans in front of their faces. Ron tries to keep his pride. Draco's assured him everyone will look the same and Ron trusts him. Draco Malfoy wouldn't make a fool out of himself, at least not when it pertains to fashion.

Ron rolls his eyes but covers his ears when Draco stops at a portrait then glares at him. The frame swings open and they enter. Ron begins blushing immediately at the outfits of those inside. The women are crossdressing too, most wearing slacks and button-down shirts with the first several unbuttoned. But there are a few women wearing only suspenders on their upper half, and whilst Ron isn't attracted, he has a hard time looking away.

No one says anything, to him or Draco. Ron scratches his scalp, remembering too late that he hadn't combed his hair after having Draco's fingers in it. For that matter, he has no idea what Draco's put on his face. He strides to the nearest mirror, passing several men in short dresses that can't take their eyes off him. He blushes and silently curses Draco, though it won't do to get into an argument while he's in the Slytherin common room. The blonde has smeared makeup all over his face; eyeliner and eye shadow and a shiny lip gloss. He looks surprisingly feminine, and if it wasn't for the cock he can feel against his leg instead of confined in pants, he'd be worried about somehow turning into a girl.

"You look hot," one of the starers offers, and though there's no reason to trust him, Ron can hear no sarcasm in his voice. He doesn't know if the teen considers it a compliment or just a statement of fact, but he feels better for it. He crosses the room to join Draco and Pansy, who's wearing a three piece suit. He wants to inform her she's wearing muggle clothes, but decides not to start any drama. Just because he looks like a bird doesn't mean he has to act catty like one.

***

Unlike a lot of couples, Ron and Draco don't live together after graduation. Harry and Hermione barely manage to make awkward conversation with Draco when he shows up unexpectedly and they're over. Pansy and Greg just barely manage to hold in their irritation when Ron comes over to Draco's home, though their method of dealing with him is silence. Asking either party to be around their best mate's boyfriend on a day to day basis would only lead to quarrels. Not to mention what might happen if Pansy and Greg and Harry and Hermione all visited at the same time. Their families, too, would throw fits, and whilst Ron's learned from Harry long ago how not to care about what society thinks, he and Draco are both well aware that their relationship is one of the first among purebloods. Not even a century ago their families would have been forcing arranged marriages. It's best to not push the limits of tolerance.

Ron stays at home partially because he doesn't have much money, and isn't interested in working for someone just because he's an important name. He'd rather be poor than be a glory-whore, as much as the attitude would have shocked his fourteen year old self. That's only a part of it though. It's mostly because everyone else has left home. His mum places so much time into taking care of her children that she would be lost if there wasn't at least one person living at The Burrow. Still, that in no way means he spends all his time at home. If his mum could survive whilst all her children were at school for ten months, she can survive Ron spending the day at Draco's house. Especially if she doesn't know what he's doing there.

Ever since he acquired his own home- Ron's not ready to say bought it when he's positive Draco didn't work a day to afford it- the man's been collecting an arsenal of toys. Every time he visits Draco has something new for them to play with.

Today, for example, a new set of Vincent Vyber's Vibrators is sitting on the small glass coffee table. That, added to a four poster bed means very bad-or good, depending on definition- things for Ron. Almost immediately after entering the room Draco is stripping him, frowning at the t-shirt Ron's wearing. Draco has a loathing for clothing as muggle as a t-shirt proclaiming the word King, but Ron loves the gag gift from Harry and wears it often.

Draco takes a minute to kiss him, fully dressed against Ron's bare skin. The robe feels scratchy against his chest and he wonders how Draco can stand wearing it all day. Then the blond shoves him hard without warning and Ron sprawls back onto the bed, bouncing awkwardly. The hawthorn and unicorn hair wand flicks harshly and what feel like snakes reach out and coil around his wrists. They pull up and Ron's arse skitters along the bed until his wrists are directly against the bedposts and the sheet is wrinkled beneath him. Not for the first time he silently thanks Draco for being so good at unspoken magic, it always makes things more exciting. Not that he will ever admit it to the man, it wouldn't do for Draco to get even bigger of an ego.

He watches as Draco slowly unwraps the packaging, much more patient than Ron was the few times he got a new present for Christmas. Four red items fall out, and when Draco comes towards him Ron has no question that he's going to use them all.

The first is a cylinder slightly bigger then the width of Draco's cock. Ron shivers when Draco flicks his wand again and the same spell wraps around his ankles. It pulls his legs up until his feet are as near the canopy as they can be without breaking his neck, leaving his arse exposed. A fingertip plays with his arsehole and Ron tenses automatically before taking a breath and willing his body to relax. It slickly slides into him, then another one joins without warning. It's not that he's being stretched too far, when one bottoms nearly every day one's body begins to get used to it. It's that it feels like Draco is using him, and the feeling is disturbingly _right_. It's an awkward feeling, it makes Ron feel like he's turning his back on eighteen years of defending Weasleys against Malfoys.

Draco's fingers rock in and out a few times before he removes them, and suddenly Ron's got a hard plastic penis against his hole. He bites his lip as Draco pushes it inside him, wishes the man would snog him a bit instead of getting straight to business. A tap of the wand causes the toy to vibrate, and he quivers at the sensation. 

The next two red toys are small half spheres, about the same size as those 'contact lenses' Hermione's mum has. Draco places one on top of each nipple and hits both with his wand. They start vibrating and invisible lines of heat run down his chest to pool in his groin. They take away some of the shock of the toy in his arse, and Ron starts getting hard again. 

The last item is what looks like a red handkerchief, something Ron hasn't seen before. Draco drapes it over his scrotum as best as he can, though it's difficult with the position Ron's in. When he lightly taps the cloth Ron holds his breath, not sure what to expect. He releases it in a moan, it's near the best feeling he's ever had in bed. The cloth is surrounding his bollocks with vibration, like when Draco hums as he's blowing him but a dozen times better.

Each toy electrifies the skin between the toy and his cock. Ron feels like his body is singing with passion. Much too soon for his pride he begins to feel the need to come. His orgasm bubbling to a boil inside him, his toes and his ankles strain in their invisible bonds.

And that's when Ron hears the spell.

"Oh no. Fuck you Draco. Fuck off, no you don't!"

Draco calmly retreats across the room to the settee, picking up a text bookmarked with a ribbon. "Am I going to have to gag you in order to get some peace in which to read?"

"Fuck you Draco, take this off!" It's another binding spell, tight around his shaft and the top of his bollocks. It completely prevents him from coming, though his body is still quaking. Tension is making the muscles in his legs twitch, his thighs quiver until he feels like he couldn't stop shaking if Merlin himself requested it. Draco is a sadist, and Ron is torn between enjoyment of the prolonged feelings and irritation that Draco did this without asking.

"Every word you say adds one minute onto the time before I take the spell off," Draco informs him, then removes the ribbon and begins reading.

***

This game is always the same. Ron will be sitting in his room at The Burrow and he'll hear the pop of apparition. It's always Draco, no one else is rude enough for direct apparition without permission first. He'll come up behind Ron with his wand ready, and Ron will sit like willing prey. Very rarely does he try to outwit Draco, running from the room the second the sound rings. 

It isn't that he can't evade the blonde. Eight out of ten times if Ron needed to he could make an escape. It's more that he doesn't want to. He knows beyond question what spell Draco is casting on him, as he was the one who taught him it. Even without that confidence, Ron isn't worried. Contrary to a year ago he trusts the blond. 

When Draco had first gotten this idea they'd begun much more tamely. In those days they'd used a blindfold. Draco had sneaked up behind him with his arms raised, steady but ready to strike. He had the quick wits of a muggle horse hostler, not that Draco would appreciate the comparison. That blindfold would descend over his eyes and Draco would cast a sticking charm so it couldn't come off.

Now things are different. Once Hermione had filled Pince's position there was no stopping her from absorbing as many books as she could. Ever practical, she makes note of any useful spells and write letters to those that she thinks can best benefit from them. Harry gets all the household ones; as good as he is cleaning his flat the muggle way with his training from the Dursleys, he's horrible at washing dishes with magic. At least once a week Ron gets an owl with a few charms or hexes and advice for how to use them. If there's anything Ron has learned since breaking up with Hermione it's that she's a kinky sod and if she had a penis she'd make a perfect boyfriend, only he can't tell her that because there's probably a spell for that.

He doesn't always go straight to Malfoy with them. In fact he normally tries them out with his brothers in thoroughly non-sexual ways. Whether or not they approve of his relationship, everyone's learned from the past feud with Percy that different values are not an acceptable excuse for not talking to each other. Disagreements might be as common as blinking, but the Weasleys will never feud again. Practicing spells is a common ground, especially with Bill or the twins.

From practicing with Fred and George Ron knows what this spell looks like on him. As his vision fades, his pupils blow wide until his entire eye is black. When it takes full effect, Draco steps nearer, kissing each useless eyelid.

"Pretty boy," he croons this time. It's always something to that effect. It makes Ron wonder what he looks like; do the dark eyes play well off his red hair or orange freckles? 

Draco starts to strip him. He starts with unzipping his jeans and pushing them down Ron's hips, Ron carefully balances on first one foot then the other as Draco unhooks the denim from each leg. It's harder then it sounds, the fact that none of his furniture has been rearranged since trading in a crib for a bed doesn't mean that it doesn't slide around when he can't see it. He has no spatial awareness, it's almost difficult to even keep standing.

Ron can feel every pinprick of air, hear every rustle of fabric. It's not that his senses are actually heightened, it's that he's struggling to sense as much as he can. It's splitting hairs, something he wouldn't bother if he ever explained this to someone, but in his own head every nuance of the experience is important.

He can hear Draco stripping when the man moves away from him, the floor creaks as he folds the robe and crosses the room to place it on his pillow. And then Draco is behind him, small hands on Ron's hips. Draco's shorter then he is, chin poking his shoulder blade instead of nesting on his shoulder, but there's no question that Draco is in control. He would be even if Ron had all five senses. As it lies, Ron's safety is resting in Draco's hands, something that Harry and Hermione still don't quite understand. 

The hands slide from hips to his abs, the grip tightens around his belly and then there's the sound of rushing air and a popped balloon. Ron stumbles to the side, sidealong apparation can be highly disorienting and it's even worse when you can't see where you've landed. Draco's arms freeze around him like bars of iron, preventing him from falling over completely.

Where they go is always different. Harry or Hermione might scoff if he ever told them, saying that he can't _see_ if his location is the same as the last time. But his other four senses can tell quite well that every time it's different. Sometimes the air feels cold making his arms prickle, sometimes the floor is wet and slippery beneath his soles. Sometimes the air smells like cinnamon, sometimes it's half rotten garbage spoiling in sunlight. 

Sometimes it's quiet. But sometimes he can hear the dozens of noises muggle vehicles make. And sometimes he can hear people's voices. It should be embarrassing, to be naked in public. It should be nerve wracking, to not know if he's in an empty row in a library, hearing voices three rows over, or if he's in the middle of a dining room during an early supper. Ron should have his hackles up, on edge around strangers and craving his wand.

But he doesn't. And that's something he thinks Harry and Hermione _can_ understand, the urge to spend time with people that make you feel safe. As much as they dislike him, they must know by now that Ron feels protected around Draco.

In the end, it doesn't matter where they go. Blind men will follow- at least Ron will- and he trusts Draco. So they stand amongst the noise of others, and Draco enters him, and sometimes he smells popcorn and sometimes Draco thrusts him forward against a brick wall, but it never matters.

***

It's rare that when Ron apparates to Draco's he isn't home, thus proving his assertion that Draco will never get a job and will live off his inheritance forever. Of course, the fact that Ron is over in the middle of the day suggests his job with the twins has a lot of perks and maybe he's not the one to talk about buckling down. 

Even after close to two years since Hermione first found out and dumped him, it's still better to meet an empty house than a house with Pansy and Greg. Raised in pureblood ways, they still can't wrap their mind around Draco exclusively seeing a male, never mind that it's a Weasley. There's no problem with Draco being gay, but tradition says that's what Tryst Contracts are for, and it's nearly obscene to them to see their best mate dating a bloke. Ron has stumbled in on more then one argument of Goyle or Parkinson trying to convince Draco to write one.

Bored but not yet willing to go back to work, Ron goes to the bedroom wing. He passes the master and all the guest bedrooms. Whereas Ron's guests stay in his room, or maybe his brothers, Draco has a bedroom for his parents, a bedroom for Pansy, a bedroom for Greg, and a couple of neutrally designed guest rooms for unplanned guests. And then at the end of the hall is what Ron considers his bedroom; the play bedroom. He opens the door and stands in the frame, inhaling. The room doesn't actually smell different then the rest of the house, but Ron likes to image the entire room smells like sex. 

Most of the toys are in discrete closed trunks beside the settee, but not the flogging instruments. Those are proudly displayed on the wall and each time Ron looks at them he shivers. Each is practically a pensieve, bringing up memories of past use.

The whip is used the least often, it's mostly decorative. Ron bought it for Draco because he thought the blond would look drop dead sexy using it, but he's got bad aim with it. His swings are wild, often striking areas of the body not meant to be hit. After a few wild lashes Ron's often bleeding, and neither of them are comfortable with blood play. Ron knows his reason but wonders if Draco's have to do with ideals of pure blood he still silently holds, and thinking he's dirty for having muggleborn mates. Ron doesn't ever ask, Draco wouldn't tell him even if he did. There are some things they know better then to talk about.

On the other end of the spectrum is the crop. It's a length of wood with a small doubled triangle of leather at one end, and Ron swears that Draco loves it so much he's named it. Not that Ron blames him, he loves the toy too. It's not for hard use, like the variety of paddles on the wall. It's for swatting, and it takes awhile to build up a burn. 

Another tool that Draco loves to use, Ron likes it less, is the eight holed paddle. At least twice a week Ron bends over the back of the settee, mahogany wood digging uncomfortably into his torso. Draco doesn't speak to him, but there are still things to hear.

There are three distinct sounds. The first is the paddle as it moves through the air. It's charmed to make a whistling sound; that's Draco's version of cute. The second is the sound of impact. It's disturbing how much it sounds like his twin brothers hitting a bludger towards the other team. The third is Draco's grunt. If Ron told him he would deny making a noise as undignified as a grunt, but there's no better description for the sound he makes after he swings the paddle. 

It's Ron that does the talking; 'One' ringing out clearly in the otherwise silent room. With each smack the count gets higher, his voice getting rougher. Draco won't stop until he's crying, a seemingly cruel notion. But Ron likes the release, sometimes tears can be as relieving as semen.

Ron snaps out of his reverie, shakes his head a bit to wake up his brain and steps out of the room. Just because the room has as many memories for himself as it does for Draco doesn't mean it's his room. Ultimately it's Draco's home, and Ron doesn't have the right to wander in the Draco's house when he's not there. He closes the door and apparates back home.

***

They lie under the blankets together, nude as the day they were born. Draco's behind Ron, letting the man crush his right arm with the left arm rubbing down the length of his side. Ron loves being hugged by Draco, it's all the more wonderful for it's rarity. 

"Tell me five fantasies," Draco whispers into the nape of his neck. 

"Why?"

"Tell me five and maybe I'll do one." When Ron doesn't start talking immediately, Draco adds "the more detail, the more likely it is that I'll do it."

"You want five?" It seems like a lot to give away.

"Ron, I shouldn't have to use veritaserum to get you to tell me the truth." His arms tighten around Ron, and the redhead nestles back into them. Draco's chest is smooth against his. Ron's sure Draco uses a depilatory charm, though he's never caught him at it. 

"You don't own any."

"That's not the point and you know it." That's when Ron hears the edge to his voice. The one that says _this is a game and you're not playing properly_. It's a difficult place to be stranded, if Ron pushes it one way he knows he can get himself a punishment, but if he pushes it another it'll just start a fight, and it's always hard to tell with Draco what's the wrong way.

Ron mentally shuffles through all the wanks he's had, trying to find a fantasy that won't shock and appall Draco. He's imagined a lot of things but it's hard to be sure what will and won't horrify his boyfriend. Aside from dominating, Ron's not sure what kinks Draco holds, every time they meet they do something different in a random rotation.

"I want you to spank me by hand," he finally offers.

"Don’t just tell me that. Tell me about it." Draco says into his skin, words slightly muffled by his neck.

"You always use something when you hit my arse, and don't get me wrong, I fancy most of them at one time or another. The paddle when you want my arse red, the green strips when you want to tease, the cane when you want it to smart like a bitch."

Draco doesn't say anything, but Ron can feel his cock beginning to stir against his buttock and knows that Draco's imagining some of their past spanking sessions.

"But just once, or maybe now and again if we both like it, I want to feel just your hand. No toy, no magic, just your palm on my arse. I want to have finger shaped marks, and I want your palm to be bright pink like my arse."

"Maybe," Draco offers, but Ron's sure he'll add it to the repertoire in the future.

Remembering how they got together originally, when they were still under Tryst Contract, Ron feels comfortable letting another out. "I'd also love for you to slip one of my belts around my neck, not putting the prong through the hole, just threading the leather through the buckle. You'll claim it's a sign of you owning me, but I'll just laugh. I'm nobody's crup."

"And then?"

"I'd want you to fuck me, your hands on the back of my knees, pinning them to my face and making my legs strain. It'll burn, how far you're trying to stretch my muscles. And the burn will make me twitch and spasm, and I'll clench around you and you'll come quickly."

Ron can feel Draco tense. He knows that the man doesn't like the perceived slight on his masculinity, suggesting he comes prematurely. That irritation plays into his fantasy. "You'll be so irritated with me that you reach up the bed and take the end of the belt in your hand. You'll tug hard and the belt will close around my neck. My face will turn colour as I try to breathe, but your steady grip will stop any air from entering my throat. And then fireworks will go off behind my eyelids and in my bollocks and I’ll come just before I pass out."

"Sounds interesting," Draco offers. His voice is placid, but his body pressed against Ron's betrays him, he's as hard as wood. "What's your third?"

"I want us to go out on the town together, polyjuiced as other people if you want."

"Oh? And why must we use polyjuice?"

"We don't have to, I don’t really care. It works either way when I'm wanking. But we spend the night out, but we only spend a quarter of an hour in each club we go to. Just long enough for the handsome stranger to buy the sexy flirt a drink. We blow sacks of money, and get really really smashed."

"Surely there must be something aside from us getting tanked that would entertain you?"

"I didn't finish, you git. At the last club we go to, the one we decide is worthy of us, the handsome stranger buys the sexy redheaded flirt a drink like normal. But then the hot flirt is really, really grateful. The flirt decides to fall to his knees and blow the handsome stranger right there at the bar with the tender watching."

"And when security decides to remove the handsome stranger and the flirt?"

"Well, that's what the juice would be for, so we don't make headlines. Though I reckon after what happened with Fred and Alicia, mum wouldn't be surprised about more Weasleys making indecent exposure Prophet headlines."

"Your brothers don't have sex," Draco shudders.

"They do. Loads," Ron responds happily, teasing his lover.

"You are the only Weasley that has sex," Draco informs him. 

Ron likes to torture Draco with information about his brothers, but he also doesn't want the blond to get soft. He plans on Draco fucking him before he goes back home, and he can't do that if talk of his family puts Draco out of the mood.

"I want to bend on my hands and knees naked and have you petrify me. I'll just be on the floor of our bedroom, like a piece of furniture."

"Yeah?"

"Or maybe you'll cast the spell in the tea room. Would you like that Draco, having your friends over and using my flat back as a table?"

By the involuntary thrust Ron knows that Draco likes the image. He knew he would. It's rare that they fish for information from each other, sometimes it's a bit scary how little they still know about each other after so long. But one thing Ron is certain of is that Draco likes to appear to own Ron. Sometimes he still struggles with the idea, a Weasley is not supposed to enjoy being knocked down by a Malfoy. In the end though, Ron's true to himself, and admits that he likes the idea too.

"Pansy will look at my arse and cock and wish her husband was as beautiful."

Draco thrusts again, this time with more purpose. He starts a rhythm against Ron's body, pressing his cock between Ron's cleft. 

"Greg will avoid picking up a biscuit from my back, you'll have to pass it to him."

The loose hug Draco's giving him turns tighter as his arms tense. Ron's well aware it's a good sign and continues with his speech. "You'll enjoy it, I'll enjoy it. Pansy and Greg will probably be scandalized. But they'll finally understand it, understand why we don’t use a contract. They'll know why you want to fuck me all the time."

Draco groans and his rhythm is falling apart. He's close, and Ron wants to push him over.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he whispers in what he hopes is a seductive voice.

"Fuck… always… Ron…" Draco's hips shove hard enough to move Ron forward before he orgasms. His grip around his chest tightens and Ron presses himself back onto Draco. The crack of his arse fills with come, he can't help but wince as he imagines standing soon and having it all spill down his legs. He's going to drip all over the sheet and carpet.

As soon as Draco can talk with dignity- that is not panting- he asks lazily "And what's your fifth fantasy?"

A lot of things run through his head, but one above all others stands out. "I want you to tell my family you love me instead of avoiding them."

Draco chuckles, and Ron's stomach sinks. He tries not to regret telling him, tries telling himself that Draco doesn't know how much it hurts him that he's laughing at the idea. 

"That's not a fantasy."

Something inside Ron snaps. "Yes, it is. Something imagined that'll never happen? I'd say it's the exact definition."

He wriggles out of Draco's grip and snatches his neatly folded clothing from where Draco's left it. Not bothering to put it on, he apparates to the upstairs bathroom in the Burrow. He doesn't have long. The first place Draco's going to look is in his bedroom, and he might hear the noise of the shower.

Ron's become used to Pansy and Greg looking down on him. He considers it basic fact. Even though Harry and Hermione have grown to accept the relationship Pansy and Greg never will because they're entrenched in pureblood logic and won't understand queer relationships. But Draco knows that the Weasleys have known for years and don't really care. He shouldn't have a problem talking to them. For godsakes, he doesn't even know if Draco's told his parents about him. Sure, word has gotten out that they don't have a Tryst Contract, but unless Draco confirms it Ron knows that they'll never believe the rumours. 

He won't be able to go to Harry's or Hermione's either. Draco will know to look there too. He needs to be somewhere Draco can't bother him. At least until he's had time to swallow the bitter pill that Draco doesn't love him nearly as much as he loves Draco.

***

The scene plays out in Draco's home, the backyard the only place large enough to hold all the guests. Chairs are transfigured from a variety of items, all placed to face the back of the house. Ron had expected full attendance from his family and friends. He'd also had the presence of mind to expect Pansy and Greg. But when Mr and Mrs Malfoy step through the back door, no one is more surprised than Ron. His love for Draco grows a little more at the gesture, he knows Draco knows how important this is to him. Most of his siblings react by moving their wands to their laps, but thankfully a duel's avoided by Hermione and Harry warning everyone to keep their mouths shut.

After everyone had gathered, Draco asks the customary question, "Are you interested in a Tryst Contract?"

Ron stays silent a moment, for once grateful for wizard tradition. Harry and Hermione have informed him of muggle homophobia, Ron's glad for the ability to avoid that minefield. Interested parties ask the question, it is either responded to with a yes or a no, but there is never any malice attached.

"Yes. What are your conditions?"

Ron doesn't have strong enough hearing to actually catch the audience inhale as one, but he knows this is what everyone is waiting for. He invited everyone he loves telling them something important was happening, but he knew better then to warn them what. Even he doesn't know quite what Draco's going to say, though they've talked about generalities.

"I promise to never have sex with anyone except you, and in return I ask you to never have sex with anyone except me."

His family gasps, his friends gasp, Draco's friends gasp, Draco's family gasp. Tryst Contracts are powerful magic, if Ron agrees then they'll be bound to fidelity. Ron almost wants to laugh at Pansy and Greg. Their last years have been spent trying to convince Draco to set up a contract so he can escape having sex with the redhead and begin to look for a wife. Now they're getting the contract they want, but with terms that would horrify any pureblood.

"Counter, fidelity except in cases of procreation with aid of a fertility charm so it only has to occur the once."

"Accepted. Condition two; the possibility of single time Tryst Contracts with other men willing to play our games."

"We'll discuss and mutually decide?"

"Of course!" Draco seems a bit offended at the idea that he would invite someone else without asking, and that makes Ron happy. For Draco to get offended means it's never even crossed his mind. Ron can see cases where a threesome could be fun, and doesn't want to forbid them for the rest of their time together.

"Accepted."

"Those are my conditions. Do you have any conditions?" Draco asks gravely. Ron has been thinking about this for a long time, since their first conversation regarding a more permanent situation.

"First condition; any children resulting from procreation are to be raised in our home, not foisted off on the mothers." Ron's sure if he looked he'd see pride in his mother's eyes, horror in Mrs Malfoy's. But he doesn't care about either woman right now. The only thing that matters is fleshing out a deal with Draco that will work for both of them.

"Counter, we raise the children with help from the mothers should they want to assist in the raising of the child. We will of course inform them the child is primarily ours, but I think it unfair if we completely cut them out." 

Ron hears the snort of one of his brothers, undoubtedly amused that a Malfoy thinks of fairness. He hears the corresponding smack, and it's a wild guess as to which one of his family did that to shut the first up. "Accepted. Second condition, you interact with my family on occasion, and I yours. If you want me to, that is."

"Accepted."

"I have no more conditions." It's not the most romantic way to end what's essentially a marriage proposal, but it's the way a Tryst Contract must be said. 

Ron holds his hand to his mouth and spits on it, Draco does the same. Ron takes a step towards his lover and they clasp hands, the combined saliva sealing the deal. He hears applause as he begins to kiss Draco, or maybe it's in his head. His nose crushes against Draco's cheek, and he's never been happier before in his life.

***

Ron's spent his entire life being owned by one person or another. First his mum, of course, making all his decisions for him. Then his father and brothers, trying to live up to their expectations and ideals. Harry was next, followed by Hermione, falling head first into trouble he'd never have gotten in for his own sake. He doesn't regret any of it. Following them has made him who he is today; the kind of person willing to step into a relationship focused on someone owning him.

Nearly everybody is owned by someone. Just look at old Hogwarts ways; Hufflepuffs owned by their mates, nearly silent to the rest of the students in order to maintain their friendships. Slytherins owned by their families and traditions, Ravenclaws owned by teachers and finishing all the extra credit work. The only difference between Ron and everyone else is that he recognises that fact, and that he likes it. He wants to be owned, and he's finally found someone that will take ownership.

It helps that no one else seems to mind. No one that matters anyway. His family has gotten over the shock of a purely homosexual relationship years ago. Their reluctance to talk about it focuses mainly on their awareness of the style of sex Ron has. The Weasleys are a headstrong bunch and don't quite understand submission. Ron doesn't particularly want to talk to his brothers about his sex life anyway. He doesn't ask about what Bill and Fleur do, and no one asks what he does. It's a mutually beneficial system.

He doesn't need to talk to family about the sex bits anyway. With enough pressure from Hermione, he'll spill his guts on all the things he's tried in the last week, and more often than not she'll respond with ideas of things to try in the next week. And just as he's always thought, Harry firmly believes in true love. After his best mate had swallowed the bitter pill of becoming acquaintances with Draco, he'd confided that he was happy for Ron finding the person he was meant to be with.

It's been a little over a week since he and Draco have written their new Tryst Contract, and Ron feels more secure than he's been since attending Hogwarts. He doesn't have a collar or a brand, he has something more permanent. He has a promise.


End file.
